Frozen: The 21st Hunger Games
by CelticGames4
Summary: Everyone he loves is a Victor, and that's a big deal in District One. Now, the pressure is put on him to volunteer and WIN. If he wins, people will stop stepping on him. If he loses, well, he'll be dead before he knows what could happen. And, in his winter wonderland of an Arena, he forms an unlikely alliance. Follow Os and the other tributes through their frozen journey!
1. The Decision

My name is Osmium.

Osmium Jericho Krietzer, if you want to get all nit-picky like that.

Secretly, though, I don't actually like being called by my full name. I'd much rather you call me "Os." Dutch used to call me "Ossy" before he went into the Games, which I don't mind, either.

I suppose I should introduce you to everyone before we go much farther, shouldn't I? Otherwise, well, this story's not going to mean a lot to you.

I'll start with my father, because I think that's always the place to start. His name is Platinum Krietzer and he's the Victor of the very first Hunger Games. If you can't tell by the names, we live in District 1. Anyways, he's not my real birthfather.

Next, you all should meet his sister, Paradise. She and the rest of his family shunned him when he came out as bisexual and the nation had a fit. She's my biological mother, as well as my brother's. She didn't want either of us when we came around so instead she gave us to her brother. He adopted us as his sons, even though we're his biological nephews.

Let's not forget Dutch. He's my older brother, and last year, he won the 20th Hunger Games. I really am proud of him… I'm glad for him, and I couldn't be more excited for him. But the Games destroyed him in a million different ways. Some of the ways are obvious. Some of the ways are those that my father and I can see from before his Arena. But I'm convinced there are some that not even Dad notices. He's my big brother. _Mine._

Well, actually we're biologically half-brothers. We have the same mother, obviously, but different Dads. Dutch knows who his is. I think he's actually talked to the man before. Behind Platinum's back, of course. Nobody knows who mine is, not even my birthmother. And nobody except me has ever cared to know. I wish I knew who it was, more than everything, because I want to talk to him just like Dutch got to talk to his. Maybe it's better that I don't know him. I love my Uncle and brother more than I would ever love him, anyways.

Anyways, nobody knows Dutch as well as I do. No arguments, and no buts.

Then there's Nick. He's actually from District 2, but he comes to 1 a lot because he has no family back in 2. Well, he does have two parents, but they're unhappily married because he was just another accident, like Dutch and like me. They often fight about his spoils, he often says, and he spends more than a lot of his time here at District 1 with us. He's the Victor of the 16th Games, and he, Dutch and I became best friends. Nick is a spectacular cook and he often has to come make us food after Dad almost sets the house on fire trying to cook something as simple as scrambled eggs.

Believe it or not, that's all of the important players in my life that are alive. I've never really fit in at school because, though my father and best friend and eventually brother all won the Games, I still hate those dumb Games with everything in me. Maybe being friends with so many Victors is the reason I can't stand the Games. Because I've seen everything that the Games have done to them. It still makes me wonder why Dutch would even think of volunteering.

But we're not done with the character analysis yet. Because there are other people who have affected me that I've never even met before. Mostly because they passed on before I was born.

Champagne Walker and Drake Fellington were my Dad's allies in his Games. She was from One, killed by a boy from Six. Drake was from Four, and he was killed by a combination of impeccable fate and my father in the finale of the First Games. I've only ever watched them in the Games and heard the stories that Dad told about them, though. Elijah Crowly was the 13-year-old from District 2 who died in my father's Arena. Dad didn't kill him, though.

Ashley Duermin was an orphan that was manipulated by the Capitol when she was captured during the rebellion. She was put in the First Arena to manipulate the tributes and spook them, and my Dad killed her in the finale when she tried to torture Drake.

Before I go on, I'll talk a little about Nate. Nate McIalwain, Victor of the 2nd Games. Best friend of Elijah's, who I mentioned earlier. He knew Ashley, too. He won the Games and when he did he and my father became best friends. They survived everything the Capitol threw at them together, before he just had too much and killed himself. I really hate that, because suicide is something that I hate. All people are wonderful… Why would anyone think they weren't!? And why would they hate themselves so much it drove them to end their own life?

Priscilla Westfall and Brandt Manson were both friends, maybe more like acquaintances, of Nate's, and that's why Dad ever told us about either of them. She was a twelve-year-old that died in the 2nd Games by Nate's sword, and he was 18 when he died in the 3rd Games.

I've spent many long evenings in the library learning about each of them, as opposed to long nights at the Training Center at the Academy.

Now, _now _I've introduced everyone to you. Pick and choose your favorite characters. They're ALL my favorites!

Now, my Dad and Nate McIalwain put together a time-capsule with tokens from each of the deceased. That's why I ever cared to know them. After Nate died, Dad collected something for him, too. Dutch and I love that collection of memories, especially me. There's a ribbon for Ashley, a stone for Priscilla, a ceramic fishhook for Drake, a glass flower for Brandt, a stuffed cat for Elijah, a tin mushroom for Dad (even though he's still alive), and a necklace with a glass crystal from a chandelier, for Champagne. Now, Nick is Elijah's nephew. Elijah died when Nick was little. Dutch gave the cat to Nick and he's held onto it for a while. Sometimes, either Dutch or Dad will take something out of the box, especially Dad. As for me? I like to hold onto Champagne's necklace.

And there's a reason I held on to that chandelier crystal necklace, as opposed to any other object in that box. It's because I relate to Champagne in every way there is to relate to a person. Well, alright, maybe she wasn't pansexual like I am, and maybe she doesn't have a Victor for a parent, one for a brother, and one for a best friend, but I still feel connected to her. It's because she gets attached to people. It's because, from the limited segments of her life that I saw, I can tell that she loved people, like I do. And I believe that, like her, I tend to get attached to people quickly. Plus, both of us were outcasts that got bullied, but I was never one to pick out the negatives and I don't think she was, either.

But yes, I will say that I would be willing to die for Dutch, Nick, or Dad, any day. And yes, I'll say it loud and proud, every day for as long as any of us lives. And I believe that going into the Arena would be a dangerous thing for me because I would become attached to someone else, and then die for them.

No matter how cranky the three Victors get, I will always want to be there for them, and that's a promise.

I quietly slip through the door. "Dad?" I whisper.

He jumps and then turns around. "Osmium," he says in a whisper, "You scared me."

"Sorry Dad," I whisper. I don't mention it but I hate when people call me Osmium.

"What do you need?" he asks quietly. I notice that he's holding Nate's gemstone in his fingers.

"I came here to help you," I whisper, "I want to help make you feel better."

He freezes, and I can tell by the look on his face that he doesn't want me around. "Osmium," he whispers, "I'm really sorry but now's really not a good time."

"Dad, I don't like seeing you so upset," I whisper, sitting next to him on the bed, "Maybe if you talk to me, I can help you."

He shakes his head sadly, looking back at the gem in his hands. "I'm sorry, but things like this just don't work that way. I appreciate that you just want to help, I really do, but…" he sighs and looks up at me miserably, "You'll never understand." He looks back at the gemstone in his hands and fights tears away. My own eyes tear up sympathetically and I stand up. My voice cracks with tears as I whisper, "Sorry for disturbing you, Dad."

I leave him and walk over to the guest bedroom that's been claimed by Nick. He's curled up on the bed with his head buried in a pillow. When I knock, he yelps, "God, Osmium!"

I wipe my eyes and the tears are over: for now.

"Hi Nick."

"What do you want?" he asks coldly.

"How are you-"

"Fine," he says forcefully, then he sighs and says, in a much softer whisper, "Osmium, I really appreciate your concern. But I really just need time by myself."

"Why do you always talk on that brick wall with Dutch?" I ask him, "What do you talk about?"

"The Games," Nick growls, "Which you wouldn't know."

"But maybe if you just talked to me about all this, I could help you. Maybe if you just-"

"I can't. It's just too hard. I can't even take these things in my mind, and I'll never say them out loud."

I break my gaze from him to look at the floor. "But you'll tell them to Dutch?" I ask quietly.

"Dutch already knows," Nick says, "He already understands because he's been through it, just like I have. But you? You never will."

"Fine. Sorry for disturbing you, Nick," I say, trying to cover the tears. I slip out of there and have to take deep, shaky breaths before walking out of the house.

I know my brother. No matter how close he gets to Nick, I'll always know Dutch.

I see him by himself, on the brick walls by the gates leading into the Victor's Village. I've often found him here, sitting on the wall, saying nothing but looking desperate for something.

Something.

Something that I don't know what it is.

Something that I want to find out.

"Hey Dutchy," I whisper. He screams.

"GODDAMMIT OSMIUM!" he yells, turning around to face me.

"Dutch, calm down. I'm really sorry for scaring you-"

"You came to cheer me up, didn't you?"

"Dutch-"

"You came to try and make me happy again. You can't always make everyone happy, Osmium! And you need to stop moping around about it, too!"

"But maybe if you just talked to me, I could help you!"

"Get it into that little head of yours, Os! YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND WHAT I'M GOING THROUGH! NEVER!"

"Dutchy…"

"Don't fucking call me Dutchy. I outgrew that when I won the Games."

The tears freely flow out of my eyes and I choke out, "Why do you hate me so suddenly? I only want to help!"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE ANNOYING!"

That word hurts. I make one last plea, "Dutch, I'm your brother!"

"YOU'RE MY HALF-BROTHER! I don't get why you can't understand this! Leave me the fuck alone until I want you again! Can't you even do that right!?"

This time when I say it, the tears are obvious in my shaky voice, "Sorry for disturbing you, Dutch."

I run upstairs and slam the door shut.

I have the lunchbox full of memories that my Dad made with his friend Nate. He has the stone that resembled the 2nd Victor, and Nick has the stuffed cat that was Elijah's. Other than that, everything in the box is untouched.

_The whole Academy wants me to volunteer. In fact, I've been feeling the pressure to volunteer. _

I take the paper out from where I had hidden it inside my pillowcase. My volunteering letter, addressed to Dad. I kept it here so long because I don't want to show it to him. He would never let me, anyways.

A tear accidentally drips on it. Darn.

I've kept it to myself because I'm torn on whether or not I should volunteer. Everyone at the Academy says I'm ready. They say that they can just feel it: three Krietzers are going to win the Games, two in a row. I hate them at the Academy. I don't understand why Dad sent me there, even though he never wanted me to volunteer. I don't understand why he sent Dutch there, even though he never wanted him to volunteer. I don't get it.

I sit cross-legged on the bed and pour out the lunchbox on the bed, examining its contents.

I remember when Dad told us about all this stuff. Dutch told me again when I was older.

I decide to see what the other tributes have to say about this. I mentally split the bed into two halves. I pick up the rock that belonged to Priscilla first.

_You could be killed by the person you trust the most. _

Dutch is the person I trust the most. And he's a Victor, and he's not a mentor this year. That's because the two mentors that are supposed to go this year need to go together because one of them gets a little delusional without the other.

I'm lucky District 1 has four Victors. That shouldn't be a problem. I place it on the half of the bed that I declare is the side pro-volunteering.

Next I pick up Ashley's ribbon.

_You could forget who you are. _

Dutch has.

Nick has.

That worked in a good way for Dad, though. He was a terrible person before the Games, and the Games made him realize his error. Maybe if I won the Games I would finally stop being annoying. I've heard it too many times to count, even tonight, from my own brother. People think I'm annoying, and I suppose it's because I am. But if I won the Games I could change that.

I put the ribbon on the pro-volunteering side.

Next, I pick up Drake's hook.

_You could fall in love. _

It's possible. If the sullen, sailor-mouth from District Four who never loved a thing in his life until that District 1 girl can fall in love in the Arena, so could I. And I'm pansexual, which means I can literally be sent flying head over heels for almost anyone I meet in the Arena. It's possible. Then what would happen? I don't want to know.

Then I would die for them, I guess. I would never tell them how I felt.

I tell people I love them all the time, even people like Nick. Because it's true. He's like my other older brother, of course I love him. I say it all the time because I always feel so full of love to everyone. The thought of loving someone even more than everyone else is an exciting one, but if I happen to meet that someone in a fight to the death? It would most certainly mean that I would die. And my dying leaves all my loved ones here without me, feeling like it was their faults (because it was).

I struggle with this. Then I finally force my hand to put Drake's hook on the anti-volunteering side.

I pick up the glass flower next.

_You could be humiliated in death. _

I've already been humiliated in life.

But the problem is that, if I died… Dutch and Dad and Nick would be humiliated. I would, once again, have expectations to live up to that I would fail to succeed. Just like always. And then… Who knows what would happen to my family? They would be laughed at by everyone at the Academy. Their opinions wouldn't matter ever again, all because of their failure, Osmium.

But that's only if I lose.

If I win, all four of us would be showered with fame, fortune, and glory. We would practically be worshipped. Maybe Dutch would smile more often. Maybe it'd be easier to make Dad laugh. Maybe Nick's eyes wouldn't always look so heavy. I would love to live in that world.

I put the flower on the pro-volunteering side of the bed. Now it's three against one.

I close my eyes and imagine Elijah's soft cat. Nick has it now, so I'll have to pretend. I think of what Elijah would say to me, if he were here.

_Your innocence will be destroyed. _

Good.

I'm sick of being naïve, and I'm sick of everyone taking advantage of me! Maybe the Games will give me a backbone and I'll finally get some respect around here. Everyone knows that my brother and father are Victors, but they all consider me the runt. They make fun of me, still, because I spend more time in the library than the training room.

I'm sick of being disrespected. I'm sick of being _bullied._

I want to be the underdog that everyone laughs at and then win these Games and come home, proving them all wrong. And then I'll come home and be a totally new, badass person. Dye my hair black like Dad. Right now I'm soft and my voice is squeaky and annoying and I let people push me around. And I let them take advantage of me, and I really hate it. If I have to survive the Games to get some respect and a backbone around here, well, so be it.

Elijah's cat goes on the pro-volunteering side, for sure.

Next, I imagine Nate's gemstone, how Dad was holding it in his hand so gingerly.

_Your life will become hell. _

Just like Dad's.

Just like Nick's.

Just like my poor Dutchy's.

But I would finally understand. I would finally understand what they're going through and maybe I could actually help them feel better. Maybe I could change them for the better. Maybe Dutch and I could rebuild the relationship we had before the Games. Maybe Dad would actually find someone and stay with them. Maybe Nick would finally face his father and reconcile with at least one of his parents.

Going into the Games and winning wouldn't only change my life. But it would also help me change theirs. And that's what I really, really want.

I put imaginary Nate's stone on the pro-volunteering side of the bed. Drake's hook continues to stand alone.

Next, I pull out Dad's tin mushroom.

_Everything you thought you knew will be destroyed. _

I'd be doing this for him.

I'd be doing this for Dad, and Dutch, and Nick. I want to fight for them. I want to understand, I want to know what they go through and I want to give them all the bright future they deserve.

Yes, the one they deserve. They're all such bright people and they all have so much potential to do wonderful things and pursue their dreams. But the Capitol cuts them off from all of it.

I'd let the Capitol take me any day so that they'd never have to go back there. I'd let President Augustus take everything I have and strip me of all my beliefs if it would mean that they never touched my family again. And yes, Nick is included in my family. I'd have rowdy sex every second of every day for the rest of my life if it meant that my family never had to sit in another Capitol bedroom again. I'd do it if I could, but I can't. All I can do now is try to understand. And, by going into the Games and winning…I could.

I add that to the pro-volunteering side.

Drake's hook is looking quite lonely.

There's one last piece left.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the chandelier necklace that used to belong to Champagne.

As soon as I look at it I finally burst into tears. My fist squeezes the crystal and chain tightly as I cry, engraving the design in my palm. If I volunteer, I'm going to have to leave this behind. My glasses will have to be my token. And I can't let this be buried. It's too special to Dad, and I didn't even know Champagne personally. But oh, how I wish I did. How I wish I had been able to talk to her. She and I are a lot alike. She's someone that would understand what I'm going through, to an extent.

_You'll get attached. _

I don't even think about it. I put Champagne's crystal with Drake's hook. I take off my glasses, which were blurred by the condensation of my tears, and bury my face in my knees. I was hoping I could talk myself out of it, but if anything, I just talked myself _into _it.

I have no other choice. Not now.

I have to volunteer tomorrow. I have to be the District 1 male tribute in the 21st Hunger Games.


	2. Os and Dutch

"Os?" Dutch knocks quietly on my door and I look over. It's the next Saturday morning, after I got the letter and decided to volunteer. I haven't exactly told anyone about it yet.

"Hey." Our conversations have been much more formal and a lot less casual ever since he won the Games.

"Can I talk to you?" he asks.

I start to feel excited. Dutch hasn't wanted to talk to me in forever.

He sits on the foot of my bed and flips the dark hair out of his eyes. I sit and watch him.

We sit in silence for a minute or so before he shifts over to face me, and starts the conversation.

"Os… I heard you got a letter," he says quietly.

"I did." The truth comes spewing out before I can formulate a lie. I lean back on my pillow, where the letter is still hidden.

"Wh…What do you think you're going to do?"

I consider this response for a second. "I don't know."

"Remember that you're only 17. Just like I was, when I won my Games. You still have time to think about it."

"They said that if I don't volunteer this year, odds are that I won't get the opportunity next year."

He takes a deep breath with his teeth clenched. "It's not worth it, Os. You'll never believe me when I say it, but it's not. I didn't believe Dad, and he was right."

"Dad's always right, though."

Dutch tries a smile but gets back on topic. "Os… You understand that I'm going to be a mentor next year, don't you?"

"No you're not. You get a break, for the delusional one!"

He shakes his head. "President Augustus changed the schedule. Turns out that they were faking the delusion."

I blink. "Why would they do something like that?"

"To stick together. The act is dead, now. Being a Victor is such an unstable life that you can never trust the Capitol unless you're doing what they say."

My spirits plummet in that moment. "Oh…"

"But, I know District 1 boys, especially Krietzers. If you want it, there's nothing I can say to stop you."

I nod, even though that's what I've been saying for years.

"You see, Os," he says, leaning back so he's sitting next to me on the bed, "The three of us have something very precious that we are all being controlled by. You."

I blink at him. This must be some sort of mistake or joke. "_Me?_ I haven't been in the Games."

"That's right. If they killed me off, the whole Capitol would have a fit. Same with Dad. Same with Nick, too. But you're the one person that all three of us care about that they can threaten all of us with. This is serious business."

"But if I win the Games, then none of us will have to worry. They'll have nobody to threaten anymore."

"They'll find someone. They'll find a way. The Captiol is good at ruining lives, Os. And I don't want them to have the chance to ruin yours."

I nod sadly. A long silence follows.

"D…Does that mean that I'm the cause of your suffering, Dutch? I mean, if they didn't have me to threaten you with, how would they control you?"

"They…" he chews on his lip nervously. "Probably with Nick's parents at Two."

"Nick barely cares about his parents, and you and Dad don't. That means it _is_ me."

"Os…."

"Don't worry, it's okay. I'm fine with it."

"You're lying. I'm your brother, I know these things. What's _really _going through your head?"

"That only gives me more the reason to volunteer," I mutter quietly. "I'm sorry."

He nods, avoiding my eyes and staring at the floor. "Os…" he says.

"I…I still have to think about it. Dutch, I promise I'll think about it. That I'll try to stay out of trouble. I still don't know what I'm gonna do."

"Please, think. Think about it." He kisses the top of my head, something he hasn't done since I was 12 and he was 13, before my first reaping. He tries to smile and I smile back.

We hear Dad call suddenly from downstairs, "Dutch! Come down here, this is important!"

He gets up and I frown. He holds a hand down to me and says, "Come on, Os."

I take it and the two of us head downstairs together, to the living room. Dad is sitting on the couch and he pats the spots next to him. The two of us sit down next to him.

"What's the word?" Dutch asks.

"The Head Gamemaker's on, talking about next year's Arena. They're gonna give everyone a hint about it. This is important to know as a mentor."

Dutch nods and I listen, as well. I don't think Dutch told Dad about my letter, and if he did then Dad seems to be alright with it.

The Capitol man flickers on the screen and Dad pauses it when the camera shows his face. "Here he is. The longest-running Head Gamemaker Panem's ever seen. This year will be his seventh in the position."

"Seven!?" Dutch says, "Wow…."

"That's amazing," I say quietly. Dad smiles and nods, "Sure is. Ithica Myers lasted four years, coming in second place. Then there were some three-year guys, some twos, and a couple ones."

"Amazing. What happens to them?" Dutch asks.

"What does the Capitol do to people that've made them upset?" he asks, answering that question.

Dutch swallows hard and nods, while Dad studies the man on the TV. I look at him, too. He has dark red hair and freckles that dot his cheeks and nose. His left eye is ice blue, and his left is moss green. "The man's a genius. A real genius, like he could crush the smartest person in District 3. And his Arenas are the craftiest of them all, always having a catch. The legend is that one of his eyes has a contact in it, one is natural. But nobody's ever been able to tell which is which."

"Wow," Dutch says.

"He doesn't appear on TV often. And when he does, well, you'll see, he doesn't talk a lot."

"I think that worked in his favor," I point out.

"That's probably very true, Os," Dad says.

He wears a long beige trench-coat, even though the interview is taking place indoors. He has his hands in his pockets nervously. Dad presses play and the interview begins.

The first thing we notice is that his words are very quiet and hard to understand. Not only does he mumble but he has such a strong accent that we can't hear one word he's saying. They have to subtitle some of it.

He talks about last year's Games, the topic Dutch comes into the conversation and they talk about him for a while before getting to the Arena of this year. The hint of the year is that the Arena will be spine-chilling. My first thought is a winter environment, but Dad tells us it's a lot more complicated than that. Then they sign off, announcing his name one more time: "Panem, your Head Gamemaker, Edward O'Callaghan!" Then Dad shuts off the TV, and he and Dutch start thinking of possible Arena scenarios.

They come up with so many options I feel dumb for thinking of it so shallowly, and I watch them make the list.

"How about I make you both some dinner?" he asks, getting up and going to the kitchen.

"NO!" we shout at the same time. Our father can't cook and we don't want him to burn down the house trying.

"Fine. How about I go microwave some of Nick's leftovers?"

We can nod to this. Nick is a great cook, and he always makes us lots of food for those days he has to go back to District 2. Dutch and I have both been too afraid to try cooking, considering we _are _Krietzers, it's in our blood to suck at cooking.

When he leaves, Dutch looks over at me and whispers, "Dad doesn't know about your letter, Os. Don't let him find out."

Then he walks to the kitchen to help, and I get up and follow.


	3. I volunteer!

I wake up to Dad calling and sit up, wondering why he would get us up at 8:30 on a Saturday.

Then, I realize it. Today's the day.

Reaping day.

I told Dutch I wasn't sure… He doesn't know how certain I am. He doesn't know that I'm volunteering. Dad has no idea, not even the slightest hint.

They're all going to be shocked when it happens. And today's the day.

Dutch will be my mentor. I have faith that he and I make a great team and we can get me out alive, together.

The Capitol won't be able to control Dutch and Nick and Dad anymore. The thought of my safety hanging in the air is freaky to me. If it were me and they were threatening _my_ brother… I dunno _what _I'd do. But I'd certainly be obedient, that's for sure.

After winning the Games, I figured that Dutch and Nick had lost interest in me. But maybe they avoid me because I remind them how the Capitol controls them. Maybe they're trying to protect me.

Well, I don't need protecting. I'm seventeen, the same age Dutch was when he won the Games.

If he can make it through the Games without getting killed, I think I can protect myself. We are half-brothers, after all. I don't need them worrying about me all the time. Just another reason to go and win. I decided this a long time ago.

I spend time in thought as I get dressed. Have to look nice for volunteering day.

The girl from District One that's set to volunteer is named Pleasure. She's a tall, strong girl with flowing blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She's cute, but I've also seen her kill dummies with every weapon in the training center. Swords, spears, bow and arrows, tridents, stars, knives, maces, axes, nooses… Oh god…

She's nice to her friends but slightly stuck-up. Not very smart, though. I guess she was made to train and gain strength, while I was made to be smart. Games history is fascinating to me, especially those with the people I hold close to me.

I like to watch reruns of my Dad's Games, when he was young. I like to watch the Second Games, as well, with Nate McIalwain and Priscilla Westfall. I've watched Dutch's Games five times, and I'll watch Nick's Games when they're on, too.

Anyways, I have my predictions. The tributes from Two are bound to be vicious. District 2 sure wouldn't want 1 to have a Victor two years in a row. Besides, they haven't gotten a Victor since Nick's Games, and that's bound to give them some kind of incentive to send only the scariest of tributes.

District Four's tributes are either deadly killers or Day One deaths. It's one or the other with them, you never know which it's going to be. Lucky for Dutch, last year both of them died on the first day: one during the Cornucopia battle, and one a little later, that night. Hopefully I'll get lucky, too, but I may not.

The others shouldn't be too much to worry about. Seven and Ten usually bring strong competition into the Games, but that's completely randomized. Three may sometimes bring geniuses, and Eleven may bring someone with berry smarts. Those tributes are nothing to worry about, though.

I walk downstairs and see Dutch standing over the toaster. Both sides pop at the same time: four slices of bread.

"Beat Dad down here," he says, without even a _good morning. _He seems just about as nervous for mentoring as I do for volunteering. The only difference is that his nerves show, while I don't think mine do, as much.

"Good," I smile. "Guess we won't have another reaping day breakfast disaster."

That gets a small laugh out of him. That's more than I've ever gotten, even though it's obviously forced.

We eat breakfast together quietly. I take a sip of orange juice and he says, "Os, I'm not ready for this."

"Sure you are. You'll be a great mentor, Dutch. Just like Dad."

"It's my first year! I just… I don't know…"

"Don't worry. It'll all go better than you think, I promise."

He lights up a little and nods.

Dad appears in the doorway just then and says, "Aw, you two didn't even give me a chance!"

"We made you toast," Dutch says, trying to smile.

Dad sits down and says, "Hey, no need to be nervous. You'll do great."

"I just… I dunno, Dad. What if I screw up!?"

"Then you learn from your mistakes. Remember, you have Krietzer blood in you, and I got out Nate my first year of mentoring. Remember, kid, he was only 14."

"Dad was a smart mentor," I put in, taking another bite of toast. "He sent the most important supplies to the whole alliance."

Seeing the look on Nate's face when he would see a parachute is just too cute to put into words. But I don't dare mention that in front of Dad.

Dutch nods, putting his half-eaten plate of toast by the sink.

"You should eat," Dad says.

"No," Dutch says, "I'll eat on the train. Besides, it's time to go."

Dad and I stand up, putting our plates by the sink. He leaves first, leaving me with Dutch.

"See you after?"

"See you after."

He kisses the top of my head and says, "Okay. Love you, little brother."

"Love you too." I smile as he runs off, skipping to catch up with our father. Then I walk to the spot designated for the 17-year-old boys.

The reaping starts and our escort, Dasdemonda, steps up on the stage happily, her blue hair bouncing as she does so. "Welcome, one and all, to the reaping of the twenty-first Hunger Games!"

The crowd claps and some people cheer. My stomach tightens nervously. When I look over to where the Victors are standing, Dutch makes eye-contact with me. His eyes are hard and commanding, like he is, but also nervous and scared, hyper and alarmed. I break eye-contact and watch the stage.

Dasdemonda seems to stare at me, even though I know that isn't really the case.

The video plays and I watch, determined to hide my nervousness. The next time I feel Dutch's eyes on me, I smile at him before turning my attention back to the screen.

The last word fades away and that knot in my stomach tightens again. Dasdemonda walks to the girl's bowl and chooses: but the girl's name isn't even fully out of her mouth before Pleasure volunteers.

_That means the boys are next. _

She walks across the stage as Pleasure gives big blue puppy eyes to the crowd of boys, probably wondering who her competition will be. I chew on my lip and wait until she reaches into the bowl and pulls out a name. "Cerulean Frazier!"

It's now or never. I have to brave up and do it.

"I volunteer!" I shout, and everyone looks my way. Suddenly another voice rings out, from the crowd of eighteen-year-olds, "I volunteer!" It's a race now. I take off running and he grabs me by the back of the shirt, starting the first fight I've ever had to live through. It will be the first of many, I'm sure.

He tugs me backwards but I'm ready to fight. The whole District shouts, claps, and cheers at the outburst of this fight. I can't even think about what Dutch and Dad are doing or thinking right now. The boy's name is Chaos, and I guess he really wanted to volunteer and saw this as his chance.

I can't let him get it.

His fist hits my face hard, but I don't let it stop me from kicking him. He shouts cuss words, letting go of me enough for me to punch him in the face. He lets go of me the whole way and I wipe the blood from my nose before taking a place up on stage.

I might be about to pass out, but I'm here, in front of all these people, and Chaos isn't.

"What a fight!" Dasdemonda squeals, "And well won, as well! _And,_ I do believe we recognize you, as well!"

She holds the microphone to my mouth. "Osmium Krietzer." I add, as a side-thought, "Don't look so surprised. I'm going to win the Games."

"Ah, what spirit! This year's Games is bound to be exciting! Let's have a hand for your tributes!"

The whole District cheers.

I don't look over at the Victors.

* * *

I sit in the dim room in the Justice building by myself, waiting for something to happen.

Cerulean visits first. He walks in the room and sits across from me. In District 1, it's become customary for that person whose name was reaped to visit whoever volunteered for them.

"I can't believe it."

"Yeah? Me neither, kid."

"I'm not a kid! I'm 14!"

"And I'm 17." There's a short silence.

"Is it true what they say, Osmium? Do you like guys and girls?!"

"You can call me Os. And, yeah, but it's more than that. Everyone. I don't care who they are, as long as I love them and they love me, too. But I don't see why that has anything to do with… Anything."

"They have no hope in you, Os. They say you're too soft. They're putting their bets on Pleasure."

"Then that gives me all the more reason to prove them wrong."

"I hope you do. I hope you win."

"I hope I win, too. I have a lot more riding on that than anyone will know."

"You will. I believe in you."

"Thanks."

"Make it three for three."

"Will do." I smile.

"Time's up," a Peacekeeper says. They gently escort Cerulean out of the room.

I get multiple other short visits from people telling me how awesome it was to see me fight. Some girls even hit on me, as freaky as _that _thought is.

Then there's a while of nobody, and then I hear a quiet knock that I immediately recognize.

_What am I going to say to him!? _

Dad seems very calm when he enters the room. He takes a rag and presses it to my nose gently without a word. I'll bet he isn't sure what to say. He puts my hand on the rag and I hold it there as he releases it. Then he speaks.

"Why?" He says it very calmly.

"Dad, you don't understand."

"I bet I do."

I sigh, sadly. I have to tell the truth now.

"You and Dutch and Nick always push me out. You always say I won't understand, because I didn't have to live through the Hunger Games. Well now I am. So that I can understand what you're going through. Maybe I'll be able to fix you all, when I get back. Make you smile more."

"Os, we may've said that you don't understand, but we always meant that it was better that way."

"That's not just it. Another reason is that everyone steps all over me all the time. If I were a Victor… That'd change. That'd change so much. Everyone would love me. They wouldn't pick on me or make fun of me. I won't get bothered. I'm viewed as below human, because I'm the only one in our family that isn't a Victor."

"There are plenty of Krietzers that aren't Victors."

"But the two most important ones to me are!" I put the rag down next to me.

"You always have us. And Nick, too."

"Yeah, I know. That's not all, though." He bites his lip, trying (and succeeding) to hide whatever he's feeling. "Dad, Dutch told me about how the Capitol uses me to manipulate you. And I don't like that thought. I don't want to be the reason that you always have to go sleep with random people every other night!" I break eye-contact, and stare at the ground. "I…I'd sleep with everyone in the whole Capitol if it meant you'd never have to again."

He starts to crack with sadness, taking in a sharp breath through his nose. He doesn't argue that one, though. Instead he wraps his arms around me and hugs me tightly. I hug him back, but I soon notice that his left shoulder is drenched with fresh tears. I choke out, "Dad…? Th…This…"

"He'll be okay when you see him… I hope."

I regret this decision already. Amazing how just a conversation with my father makes me wish I had never volunteered. But there's no backing out of it now.

"Was this at the reapings?" I ask in a quavering whisper.

"And after. Had to calm your brother down, then grab a rag and run here. 'S why I took so long. They almost didn't let me in."

I bite my lip, thinking about what would've happened if I didn't get to talk to him. Tears stream down my cheeks and I put in no effort to stop them. Finally I remember something, and let go earlier than I would've liked. I pull out the case from my pocket.

"Take." I hold it out to him.

"Your glasses?" he reaches up and rubs his eyes, trying to hide his tears.

"Dad… I'll wear these, my spare pair, into the Arena. Those…Those are the originals. Dad, if I die, which I'm not saying I will, but if I die… I want them to go into the lunchbox. Can…Can you do that for me? Please?"

He swallows hard and nods.

"And…. I want Dutch to be the one that puts 'em in. Okay?" He just nods again.

I nod and wrap my arms around him, tightly, one last time. While I still can. "I love you," I try to force out, though it's laced with tears. I bury my face in his neck. He hugs me and takes a deep breath. "Love you, too. Stay safe. You can do it, Os. I know you can."

The Peacekeeper cuts our meeting short, "Time's up."

He nods and lets me go. He gives me one more sad look with his misty eyes, and then turns around and leaves. It takes everything to not break down and sob. I wipe my eyes one last time and pat my nose to make sure there's no more dried blood. Then we're escorted out to the train.

Pleasure's eyes are slightly puffy, signaling that she's had an emotional goodbye herself. She's beaming like it's the best day of her life, though, and I decide to do the same. She looks over at me and scoffs, "Wow, Krietzer, surprised you made it this far without getting squashed." She laughs like it's funny.

I shrug, smirking. "Well, I actually feel _fantabulous_. Thanks for your concern, though." Then I walk ahead of her and Dasdemonda toward the train, not looking back.

But now's the hard part: having a conversation with my mentor. Dutch.


	4. Meet the Tributes

I sit very stiffly down on the train, in a car by myself (Pleasure's mentor took her and fled) for a long while. I freak myself out the whole time, imagining what he's going to look like, what's he going to say!?

I sit quietly, frozen, until I hear the approaching footsteps of a _very _angry Dutch.

He gets like this sometimes. When he's happy, he's the best brother in the world. But it's not hard to make him mad, and when he's mad, Dutch gets violent. Definitely a quality from whoever his birthfather was. He refuses to look at me upon entering the room. Now, Dutch hasn't really treated me _kindly _since the Games ended (he doesn't treat _anyone _kindly anymore) but I know I'm in for it today.

"YOU IDIOT!" he roars, "YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" He clenches his fist and stomps over to me, "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!? OBVIOUSLY NOT OF THE PEOPLE THAT LOVE YOU!"

Surprisingly, I don't react with anger like I thought I would. I break down into tears the minute he starts screaming. I can only manage a small croak, "Dutch…"

"HOW THE HELL COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO DAD!? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO NICK!?"

I bury my face in my hands, "I'm going to help you."

He stares at me coldly for a long time. "Help?" he asks, finally, in a stone-hard voice. "HELP!?" he screams at me. "HOW THE HELL ARE YOU GOING TO HELP US?! The only thing we asked you to do was to shut your fucking mouth and stand there! The only thing we asked you to do was to NOT do this to us! CAN'T YOU EVEN LISTEN TO THAT!?"

"I'm going to win the Games, Dutch! And then I won't be a threat to you guys!"

"YOUR LIFE IS OFFICIALLY IN THE CAPITOL'S HANDS, OS!"

I finally decide that the only way to get to him is by yelling. "IT'S ALWAYS BEEN THERE! DON'T YOU SEE, DUTCH!? OUR LIVES HAVE BEEN IN THE CAPITOL'S HANDS EVER SINCE WE WERE _BORN_!"

He stares at me, seeming to soften up a little before he gets mad again. "HOW THE HELL IS THIS HELPING US?!"

"Because I can finally understand, Dutch!"

"Osmium…" his voice gets quieter, but, if anything, it gets angrier. "If you felt left out, maybe you should FUCKING TELL US INSTEAD OF DOING SOMETHING SO STUPID LIKE THIS!"

"MAYBE I HAVE OTHER REASONS!" He stops and stares at me. "Maybe it's not _completely_ about you guys, ever think of that!?"

"What else would it be?!" he snaps.

"I'm sick and tired of being stomped on like I'm nothing! Pleasure _still _doesn't take me seriously. You were popular, people liked you because you trained well, you don't understand."

"What?"

"You know I have no friends."

"You have-"

"I have my father, my brother, and Nick. But you three have been shutting me out and I'm sick of it."

"You should've said something!"

"I've tried! You were just too stubborn to listen."

"So what!? Maybe you're just too good for those other kids."

"_Those other kids_ have spent every day of my life either manipulating to be bumped up by you or Dad at the Academy, staring at me like I'm an alien when I walk past in the hallways, spreading a rumor that I got some girl pregnant, or yelling, _Kill yourself, you fag!_"

"You're lying! That can't be true! If it made you so upset, I would've noticed!"

"You're too angsty to have noticed!"

He breaks down again, in tears. "Osmium… Why'd you never talk to us?"

"You guys never wanted to talk."

"But that doesn't mean we don't love you, Os! And it certainly doesn't give you permission to do something stupid like this!"

I huff, frustrated. "You know, I don't understand why you can volunteer and it's all okay, but the moment I go into the Games, everyone explodes on me."

"I didn't volunteer because of any of you."

"Why, then?"

He sighs sadly, and I notice him stare off into space like he's reliving a flashback.

"The day I turned seventeen, I ran into my birth-father while I was walking. When I talked to him, and he realized who I was, he threw a punch or two and told me that I would amount to nothing because I'm a mistake. I told him that we were raised as more than mistakes. He said I'd still be nothing so I told him I was going to win the Games. I had to, Os."

"Well, I have to too. I've had it decided for a while."

He crumbles right in front of my eyes. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you!" I say desperately.

"YOU LITTLE SHIT!" One of his hands wraps around my neck and I gag. "Did you even _look _at me!? Some warning would've been nice! We as Victors, we aren't _allowed _to frown at the reapings! Not only did I have to contain my _misery_, but also my _surprise_! And I was already swallowing my _fear_!"

He lets go of my neck and I take a second to recover. Then, all I can say is, "I'm sorry, Dutch."

"It's too late for sorry now!" he says. "I was already _horrified _of being a mentor! I've been BEGGING you for WEEKS to not do it, and you can't even do _that _right!"

"I'm sorry, it's what I had to do!" I take off my glasses to wipe my eyes.

"Sorry's not good enough!" he yells. "If you die, it's ALL on ME! I was already TERRIFIED times TEN of being a mentor for the first time, and now I'm being forced to mentor the person I love more than ANYTHING in the whole WORLD!"

"You'd save Nick above me if we were hanging off a cliff!"

He blinks. "WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU THINK THAT!? YOU'RE MY BROTHER!"

"I dunno, that's just how it seemed!"

He sighs. "Os, you've seen a certain side of me that I haven't shown to anyone else."

"What?"

"I'm _insane_, Os! I'm emotionally _unstable! _If you die, I will tear myself to _pieces! _Nobody knows that, not even Dad. Nobody's ever seen that side of me. I only let it come out when I'm around _you." _

"Why?"

"Because you tolerate it. When we were kids, I was afraid to be moody around Dad. And as we grew up you became the only person that could deal with it. And I knew that no matter what I did you'd never stop loving me because you love everyone you fucking dork!"

I blink. "Oh."

"If I don't have you to depend on, who do I have!?"

"Dad and Nick."

"You're missing the point."

"Besides, you're talking like I'm going to die, anyways. I'm going to _win, _Dutch! And you're going to help me!"

He swallows hard and collapses in front of me, onto his knees. "That's just the problem, Ossy. I'll probably hate myself just as much… Maybe more… If you win."

"What? Why?"

"Because winning the Games is nothing to celebrate. Winning the Games is nothing good. Winning the Games ruins your whole life. Winning the Games surrenders your life to the Capitol. Winning the Games puts the fates of everyone you've ever known in danger. Winning the Games strips the skin right off of you and forces you to your knees at the feet of President Augustus. Winning the Games causes you to lose your innocence, and your virginity, which you can never get back. Winning the Games eliminates your private life. Winning the Games will eliminate your chances at finding true love. Winning the Games eliminates all of your self-worth. Winning the Games ruins you. You'll never get fixed."

"But we can. Together, we can fix each other! Isn't that what you and Dad and Nick do anyways?"

"No. We _survive _together."

"Maybe you'll be happy if I win the Games."

"Os-" he glances out the window, where the colorful city of the Capitol is coming into view. "I don't have time to say much. But I'll say this. You're innocent. And you need to embrace that innocence while you still have it. Enjoy it while it lasts. Because it won't last long."

He dries his tears and I follow his lead, drying mine. Then he puts on a big, unnatural Dutch smile and says, "Put your winning face on, Ossy. It's showtime." And with that, we pull into the Capitol station.

* * *

That night I sit next to Dutch, preparing for the reapings. Pleasure sits with her mentor, and Dasdemonda sits on the side.

Dutch looks terrified, (still), upset, (still), and frightened, (still). I lay against him lightly and he tries a smile but soon his eyes start to water.

Suddenly, Octavian Spencer, the interviewer for the Games (he's been there since my Dad's Games) flashes on the screen, and my stomach tightens. "Welcome, one and all, districts and Capitol, to the kickoff to the 21st annual Hunger Games!"

His co-announcer, who announces things in the Arena, is fairly new. I think that he debuted two years ago, which makes him fairly young, in his early twenties. Anyways, Stephano Stivason smiles broadly and adds, "And it's bound to be a show this year, yes it is!"

The two guys laugh together and both of them flash big smiles.

"Well, let's not keep a single soul in suspense any longer! Let's take a look at this year's reapings!" Stephano's voice sounds fairly normal, compared to the outrageous accent Octavian has and the stupid voice of President Augustus, and the low, cracking, heavily-accented voice of Edward O'Callaghan, the Head Gamemaker. Stephano sounds like some of the more normal ones: Walt Lassiter, a friend of my father's, and Geronimo Sedwick. But those two are a different story, to be told on a different day.

"Please, let's not take a look at this year's reapings," Dutch mumbles under his breath. I take his hand and squeeze it for support. There's a long pause before he squeezes back.

Then, our town square flashes on the screen and I suddenly feel like I'm going to throw up again.

Pleasure volunteers and she smiles proudly. Then Cerulean is reaped, and here comes the part I dread.

I realize I sound a lot squeakier than I thought I sounded. Then the covereage of our fight, and myself eventually stumbling up to the stage. Dutch's face flashes on the screen with the other Victors. He and Dad are smiling, but Dutch is shaking.

The Dutch next to me inhales sharply and squeezes my hand so hard it starts to go numb.

Octavian and Stephano appear on the screen again, exchanging an excited glance.

"Would you look at that!? We once again have the honor of announcing another of our beloved Krietzer Games! Only the best of entertainment is bound to be in store! We'll see if anyone can take down the Krietzer dynasty!" Octavian says excitedly. Dutch scowls.

"And just look at that brotherly pride there," Stephano points out with a small sigh, "That right there is a truly loving relationship." He smiles but something's different about the look in his eyes.

Pleasure scowls and complains loudly, "Just because he's a Krietzer doesn't mean he's any more important than _me_! I mean, the rest of us!"

I smile, allowing myself for once to be smug. "No, but it makes me more famous. More likely to get sponsors. It also means I have more potentian."

"Oh please. That's not brotherly pride. That's horror."

He takes a deep breath, swearing quietly to himself as he exhales. Then District 2 pops up on the screen and everyone's attention goes there.

The lady picks a girl's name, and, like at ours, someone volunteers before she's finished saying it. She runs to the stage and the crowd claps for her.

She's asked what her name is, and she shouts, "Marcella Addington!" she has brown hair that's so long it reaches her waist. She has huge brown eyes and tan skin, though either the escort is tall or she's really short.

They have to calm down the roaring crowd before the male is picked. Two voices ring out in exact unison, and a fight breaks out. The crowd screams, yells, and cheers loudly. One of them makes it to the stage, finally, and he holds up both his hands, clenched in tight fists, smiling crookedly but with an undoubtable look of victory.

The crowd bursts into changing: "POMP! POMP! POMP! POMP!"

He cheers along with them, howling like a wolf. Some of his friends in the crowd of 17's start to howl, too.

Dutch squeezes my hand hard.

"What's your name-" she barely gets it out before he roars, "POMPONIUS HILTON!" The crowd chants and screams and howls and screams, and I start to feel sick.

Then the District Three reapings come on, after Stephano and Octavian freak out about the 2 reapings. The girl looks fairly young and the boy has got to be close to our age: 17 or 18.

Then, the commentary is added and it switches to District 4.

The girl volunteers from the 18 section. She's small, as well. Her name is Lucy, she has brown hair pulled back in a bushy ponytail.

The boy is tall and powerful with shaggy blonde hair. I think his name is Sampson, or something like it. Stephano

Then, District Five comes on.

It's an ugly, smoggy, smoky, and dirty place, and the escort isn't any better. He probably is in Capitol standards, but not in mine.

The girl's name is called in his ridiculous voice: "Kara Chess!"

She comes out from the group of 17-year-olds, very calmly, to take her spot on stage. Then, the boy's name is chosen.

"Glitch McKinley!"

The whole crowd goes silent. Nothing happens for a long while, until shouting erupts and a boy is pulled up on the stage from the group of 13-year-olds. The poor kid looks like he's going to pass out, has a black eye from something, and is bleeding from where he was dragged. The Peacekeepers shove him forward, up the stairs, and he stumbles up on stage.

He's pale as a ghost, his big gray, almost silver eyes bubble up with tears. He has cracked glasses that are crooked on his face. His whole body shakes like a little dog. Then, he's shoved forward again to shake hands with Kara.

Then, the Capitolites come back on and talk about how much faith they have in Kara, not even mentioning what went on with the little boy (whose face will be branded into my memory forever but whose name I already forget). I swallow hard and Dutch gives my hand a quick squeeze.

Then the District 6 reapings come on.

District Six is just about as smoky and smoggy as District Five.

The escort chooses a girl's name, and that name belongs to a little 12-year-old girl with longe blonde hair and particularly rosy cheeks.

The boy is tall and strong. A little hot, I'll admit, but he looks so upset it's depressing. Dutch bumps my shoulder and gives me a harsh look. I blink, shaking my head. He's right, I can't think like that. If you're wondering how he read my mind, well, I guess it's just a half-brother thing.

After Stephano and Octavian speak about the District Six boy, whose name I learn is Lanchester but will probably soon forget, the District Seven reapings come on.

The girl is picked first, with much enthusiasm from the escort: 'Marlowe Glaiser!" There's a pause, then a girl emerges from the group of seventeens and walks to the stage. She has wavy, dark hair with blonde highlights, pulled up into two short pigtails.

"She's cute," I whisper. Dutch grunts, but a light pink blush spreads across his face that signifies that he agrees.

Then, something interesting happens. A boy's name is picked, but a voice in the crowd shouts out instead, "I volunteer!" District 7 very rarely _has_ volunteers. He runs up to the stage. He has light brown hair and bright hazel eyes but looks hysterical. He walks slowly over to Marlowe and the poor girl looks shocked and especially upset.

The escort commends such a "brave young man" but my eye keeps going to Marlowe, who looks to be fighting tears. Dutch lightly squeezes my hand but keeps on a straight face.

Stephano and Octavian scream about a volunteer from a middle District, and how rare it is and how wonderful this is!

"His District partner certainly wasn't happy," Stephano adds. Then he breathes a little sigh. Something tells me he doesn't like the Games, from how he acts… But why would he be there if he didn't love it?

District 8 passes but there's nobody noteworthy. Both tributes are fairly young and look terrified.

District Nine appears next. The girl is tall and looks strong. The boy is 14, and he looks starving. He has short, copper hair that sweeps into his eyes. He walks slowly up to the stage, and luckily he doesn't need any _help _from Peacekeepers.

Wow, he is really brave.

Then Octavian and Stephano show sympathy to District 9 for not such a good crop this year.

After that, it's onto District 10. Two are reaped: the girl from the 18's, and the boy from the 16's. Denise and Boxer, I think their names were.

The two Capitolites gush at the pure power and express their hope for District 10 to have a Victor this year. Then on comes District 11.

There's a cute little girl named Daisy and a frowning 14-year-old named Sprout. I feel so bad… For a District to lose two of the youngest to the Games… But Dutch bumps me again and I keep watching District 12.

From District 12, a short 16-year-old that looks like he's from the same area as most of District 12's other tributes: with dark hair, olive skin, and gray eyes. The girl is tall and comes from the 17-year-olds. She's from the same area as him, with the same dark hair, short and straight, olive skin, and light gray eyes. Her name is Carrie, I think they said. Maybe it was different… I don't remember.

Then the Capitolites make closing remarks, as the 24 faces of the tributes flash on the screen again. When I see my face, it's smiling and happy, so that's good, I guess. I try to see how many names I remember as they all flick by.

_District One: Pleasure. Os. Two: Marcella. Pomponius. Three: Dunno. Dunno. Four: Lucy. Sampson. Five: Dunno. Dunno. Six: Dunno. Lanchester. Seven: Dunno. Reuben? Eight: Dunno. Dunno. Nine: Dunno. Chase. Ten: Denise. Boxer. Eleven: Dunno. Sprout. Twelve: Rawdon? Carrie._

Definitely not a lot. But I got all of my alliance, so that's a good thing. Then the Capitol Seal flashes one last time and the screen goes back before a commercial pops up.

Then Dutch stands up. "Let's get some sleep," he yawns out, stretching his arms.

"Good idea," Pleasure and her mentor leave.

"You too, Os," Dutch says. I snap out of my thoughts and nod quickly, standing up. "Yeah."

"It's going to be a long day tomorrow," Dutch says, "So get a good night's rest."

I nod. He walks me back to me room. "Sleep tight," Dutch says. He kisses the top of my head and leaves me to get showered and get into bed.


	5. Chariots & Training

I look in the mirror and still can't believe that the reflection staring back at me is mine.

I wear a big pink top hat that hugs my head tightly. My collar spikes up in the back, around the back of my head, and merges into two sharp shoulder decoration. I have thick sleeves that end in cuffs; a suit that's very heavy and huge. The suit is pink with gold tassels hanging off and other gold accents. The coat goes all the way to my ankles! Underneath I wear a pink, button-up shirt, but it's completely covered up. On my feet is a pair of golden boots with pointed toes.

I can barely move in this outfit, let alone bending my arms or legs!

I put up an arm. The Os reflection puts up an arm, as well. That really is me.

God, that's a hideous outfit. But, it feels surprisingly good to wear it. I feel superior when I'm in such a tall outfit, and I like that feeling. Respectable. Sophisticated. All-powerful.

I smile largely, and the Os in the mirror grins back at me. You know, I sometimes don't give myself enough credit. I'm actually cuter than I always say I am. I have to have some kind of confidence in this Game, or else I'll never win.

I keep studying myself in the mirror. Seeing myself in and wearing this ridiculous outfit, I actually feel fantabulous. And also I feel like leaning toward the homosexual side.

See, I know that I can't hold back tonight. I have to be confident and theatrical, and I can't let anything stop me. I need sponsors.

So, I decide to embrace the weirdness of all this and walk out to the main floor with a big, goofy grin on my face. Pleasure looks a lot less ridiculous than I do, but I'm alright with that.

"Hey!" I greet her pleasantly. She immediately bursts out laughing at me, "Ah, you look like even _more _of a dork than you already are!" I just ignore this.

From across chariots, I catch Pomponius's eye and smile at him. He winks back at me before he and his partner find their mentors and strike up conversation.

When I look over, I see _our _mentors coming to joins us, as well. I wave to them, and Dutch nods back before he notices what I'm wearing. He grins and starts to laugh a little: a real laugh, and a real smile: and that makes me happier than anything else could have in the moment. Pleasure goes aside with her mentor and Dutch doesn't stop grinning.

"Os, you look-"

"This outfit is outrageous, isn't it!?" I squeak at him, grinning. He doesn't stop smiling like an idiot and nods.

"You pull it off, though," he remarks.

A pink as light as my undershirt brushes across my cheeks and I smile. "Thanks. Isn't it just fantabulous?"

His smile becomes sadder. "Yeah," he says quietly.

I smile just as Pleasure climbs up on the chariot. Dutch adjusts my collar and straightens my top-hat. He smiles and whispers, "Rock 'em, Ossy."

"How could I not?" I tease, and he laughs slightly. I get up on my chariot, next to Pleasure. It makes me happy that I'm taller than her, especially taller in this outfit.

The white horses carrying our chariot whinny quietly and then start to trot through the large doors.

The sound of the crowd almost literally blows me away.

I smile and decide to enjoy the fame while the fame is still enjoyable.

* * *

Training is the first time I get to officially talk to my alliance and figure out where they belong. We plan to meet up in a group after the rules lady is done with her speech.

Pomponius, who's hair is shagging in his eyes as opposed to yesterday, when it was spiked up, catches up to me before I can join the others.

"Top of the morning to you," he says, grinning.

"And the rest of the day to you," I offer with a kind smile.

"The name's Pomponius," he says, grinning broadly, "But you can call me Pomp." He winks a green eye at me and I don't have time to mention that he can call me Os before we join the other.

The alliance stands in a circle and I examine the faces around me. They all look insane and bloodthirsty.

Marcella, the girl from 2, smiles at us and teases, "About time you dorks got here." I'm not sure if she's teasing or serious, but I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Pomp just shrugs, and I decide to speak up first. "Well, let's not delay any longer. Let's get this thing started."

"This is a nice group we've got here this year," says the girl from Four. "I trust you'll all be hard to kill. But I'll do it, you bet your asses I'll do it. Besides, competition's just what makes this game more fun, right?"

Everyone around me enthusiastically agrees, so I give a small nod, trying not to look nervous.

"What's your name?" I ask her.

She smiles wickedly at me. "The name you'll be hearing announced as the Victor? Lucy Galvan. What the hell is your-" she stops abruptly. "Oh."

She must've remembered who I am. That's a pretty awesome feeling, and I think it shows on my face.

"I'm Osmium," and decide to add, "To all of you," for good measure.

I hear Pleasure whisper to Lucy, "Oh, he's nothing special, he's weak!" I ignore the comment, though the girl pales when she notices that I heard her.

"I'm, uh, Marcella," the 2 girl says, trying to break the awkward silence, "Marcella Addington."

"Pleasure Easton," she says, "Nice to meet you all." She doesn't seem herself.

"Kiefer." We all look over to the towering boy from 4, who hasn't said a word since we got here. "Sampson Kiefer." The rest of us blink at him, except Lucy, who scowls before looking back at all of us.

Finally, the last one up introduces himself. "And finally, I'm Pomponius Hilton. My friends call me Pomp, in fact. I have a feeling we'll all be acquaintances until I go on my killing spree."

He slaps me on the back so hard the wind is knocked out of me. I don't show the weakness, though.

Pomp continues, "And, since Osmium is, of course, a Krietzer, I propose that _he _becomes the leader of this alliance."

I blink. I was expecting to be rendered weak, kicked out, and have to find my own alliance. But… All these people… they actually respect me. Wow.

"Uh, no way!" Pleasure suddenly protests, scowling.

"So, we'll take a vote! Pomp says. "All in favor of Os being our leader?"

I don't want to be the leader. I want to get away from all these people: they're _insane_. I can't trust them at all, not even a little, no matter how nice they seem. I have to get out of here. Unfortunately for me, everyone raises their hands except for Pleasure. Lucy looks reluctant, but still ends up raising her hand, as well.

Pomp narrows his eyes at Pleasure.

"_All opposed?"_ he asks in a voice that makes me want to throw up.

Pleasure protests, "Os only got to volunteer because of his family! I'll bet his brother bumped him up on the roster!" She says it even though she knows that it's not true: she knows exactly how Dutch reacted to my going into the Games.

"Shut up, Pleasure," I growl, "You know it's not true."

She scowls, then turns to Pomp and sneers: "Fine! You'll all die under his leadership! I'll be the one laughing in the end!"

"Are you leaving, then?" asks Lucy in a sweet-coated but really sinister tone, "Not like your presence will be missed."

Pleasure swallows hard and then shakes her head.

"Good," I say, taking the conversation back again. I want to get it done fast so I can get away from these people. "What are all your special skills? In the Arena, I'll be claiming any spears we find."

"Wonderful," says Pomp, "Because I call dibs on any scythes."

Marcella waves an arm, bouncing on her toes, "I'll be taking the maces."

Lucy grins arrogantly. "Don't any of you touch my knives. You simpletons couldn't use them like I do, anyways." We all exchange an annoyed look.

"Tridents," the boy from 4 says. He doesn't say anything else.

"Uh, okay, I guess I'll take swords, then," Pleasure says. I smile and nod.

"Good. Let's split up and show off skills in every weapon to boost our scores. Because I'm the leader of the alliance, I'll study up on survival skills, as well."

Lucy scoffs. "Pff, wait, you want to waste your time on stupid shit like the berry station? The fire station? Sure. Why don't you just prance out there and beg the Gamemakers for a score of 6?"

"Hey, what Osmium says goes!" Pomp says defensively. I like having this respect thing.

But, the real reason I have to go to the survival stations is to find someone, anyone else to ally with. The Careers freak me out, and they're all rude and loud and bloodthirsty. Plus, they're all going to be out to kill me. I can't trust them. I couldn't sleep with Lucy on watch!

I need to ally with someone I can trust, which means I need to find an ally from one of the poorer districts.

The Careers all separate, and each of them goes to find a weapon except for me.

Now's the time I have to go make the first friends I've ever made in my life. Hopefully I'll get better results here than I do back home.

I walk to the knot-tying station first. I've spent many nights awake with Dutch, him teaching me how to tie knots, so this isn't all too hard for me.

I look at the other tributes that are tying knots. The boy from 3 looks unwilling to talk, and a little weird. The girl from Six stares at me.

12-year-olds can sometimes have a lot to offer, so I decide to talk to her. I smile as kindly as I've ever smiled before in her direction. She fumbles with a knot in her fingers.

I sit next to her. "Hi there," I whisper quietly. She jumps and looks up, rosy cheeks quickly turning even rosier. She waves but seems agitated.

"Hi," she quietly whispers back.

"What's your name? I'm Os."

"Raleigh," she says quietly.

"Nice to meet you." I smile at her. She glances around at the other training tributes and says, "Whoops, I, uh, have to go." She gets up and scurries away. I frown.

Then, I get up and go to the fish hook station to talk to the volunteer from District Seven. He's not as strong-built as most of the tributes from his District.

"Hey," I greet casually. He looks up, then back at his project. Either he's ignoring me or he thinks I'm talking to someone else. I take a pause before adding, "That's a very nice fish hook you're making.

He looks up, his eyes studying me critically. I keep on talking. "Volunteeering was courageous of you. What's your name, again?" He looks up and says, "Reuben."

I smile, "I'm Os. Nice to meet you."

He scowls at me. "Look, I don't want to join you filthy Careers! I know you'll just exploit me and then kill me later when you're done with my services!"

I frown at him, "That's my problem, too. I don't want to be with them, either."

His expression softens for a second, but hardens up again soon. "Yeah, right." He scowls again, "Besides, I already have the perfect alliance of my own, and we're not accepting anyone else."

He walks off, abandoning the hook he was making. I sigh quietly, not sure where to go next. Lucy scowls at me so I decide to go to the spear station and show off a little. While standing in line, I decide to try talking to the boy from District Six.

"Uh, hey there." I tap his shoulder, trying not to be timid.

He whirls around, hands clenched in tight fists and held up. He calms down quickly, though.

"Sorry," he says, "But around here, you always have to be ready for a fight."

I nod, "I understand. What's your name, again?"

"Lanchester Schuster."

Something about him is _very _familiar to me, but I can't put my finger on it.

He does it for me. "Your father was in the Games with my uncle."

I just blink in response. "Your uncle was Henry Bell?"

He nods. "My mom's still livid about the whole situation."

I frown, feeling awkward. "Oh."

He shrugs. "I don't get it, personally. Your family doesn't actually seem too bad. Probably because I didn't know Uncle Henry at all, other than what I saw of him in the Games. That wasn't a very good sight to see, either."

He and I are both up to the spears by this time, and I take a spear for myself. He hesitates, then takes one for himself.

"You're the nicest person I've talked to today," I confess.

He shrugs. "I don't want to make any enemies."

I give a light warm-up toss of the spear and it hits almost the very center of the Bull's-Eye.

Lanchester's chocolate brown eyes look at me nervously and he swallows hard. "I…I d-don't even know how to hold it," he mumbles, embarrassed.

"Want me to show you?" I ask. "It's not hard."

He blinks and shrugs, so I adjust his grip on the spear. "Now throw it by extending your arm straight forward. Like this." I take another and throw it.

Then he copies me. It was a very weak throw, but close.

I take another spear and whisper, "Listen: I don't like my alliance."

He shrugs and replies without missing a beat, "Neither do I."

I throw another spear and this one doesn't hit the target. "Maybe we could meet up?" I ask. He stares at me as I throw another spear.

"I'm a boy from Six," he says. "I'm no match for you, or any of the other Careers. Besides, I don't want an alliance."

This time when he throws it, the spear actually hits the dummy and stays there. The instructor who collects and restocks the spears looks surprised.

"But would you make one?" I ask Lanchester. He shrugs, "If it were the difference between life and death."

He throws another spear and this time it misses completely.

I respond with, "Hm."

I throw another and it lands on the Bull's-Eye. Lanchester awkwardly clears his throat. "Thanks for the offer, though," he says.

I shrug, but swear loudly on the inside.

Back to Square One, just when I thought I was getting somewhere. I eventually leave Lanchester to it, going to the other weapon stations and giving up for today on making an alliance.

* * *

The next day, I decide to try to make friends once again.

I go again to the knots station, the instructor watching intently as I tie a noose that I guess he's never heard of before.

The 12 girl keeps following his glance, and I decide to talk to her next. She has short, straight, dark hair and dark gray eyes that focus on her tying.

"Hey," I greet.

She looks up, a conflicted expression on her face. "What do you want?" she asks, not smiling but also not scowling.

"To talk," I say quietly, "Is that so wrong?"

She shrugs. "In a fight to the death, it can be."

I frown. "Yeah, I guess…. So, uh, what's your name?"

"Carrie Caldwell. Why the hell are you talking to me? I'm from District _12." _

"I know, but that doesn't mean-"

She looks over at me and interrupts me mid-sentence. "If you're going to give me hell like the other goddamn Careers, do it right now. Then stop talking to me and leave me alone."

I blink. "The other have given you trouble?" She nods.

"Why?"

She scowls, "You should know. You're a Krietzer, you're one of them." She glares at me, practically burning a hole right through me.

Then she says, "I'm done talking," and abandons her knot, storming off. So they've been teasing people… I sigh to myself.

This is going to be exponentially harder than I expected.

I go to the fish hook station and learn to make one of the most complex designs. I look over and see the boy from 9. He brushes the bangs out of his eyes and goes back to looking at the simple hook that he adjusts with shaking hands.

"Hi," I try.

His head snaps up, eyes wide with fear. "H-hello," he stammers out.

"Please," I beg, "Please don't be scared!"

"I can't help it," he says, trying not to be as scared as he is, "You're a Krietzer."

He looks back down at his fish hook, frowning. I sigh sadly.

"You look down," I say quietly.

He shrugs, frowning.

"Want to hear a joke?" I ask him.

He looks up, debating this. I might be getting somewhere!

"Why do haunted houses hate it when it rains?"

He blinks.

"Because it dampens their spirits!" I look at him for any sign of a reaction.

He smiles ever-so-slightly for a fraction of a second. This is working, so I keep on going.

"Uh, a man walks into a bar. Ouch."

He doesn't get it at first but soon he does smile.

This is great!

"Two cookies are baking in the oven. One says, 'boy, it's hot in here.' The other says, 'Oh my God! A talking cookie!'"

I smile hopefully, and he laughs. "You're funny," he remarks.

"Thanks!" I smile as brightly as I can manage. He looks down at his hook and then looks over at mine.

"Wow," he mumbles, impressed, "That's good."

"Thanks. Yours is coming along nicely, as well."

He blushes bright red and covers it with his fingers. After a pause, he mutters, "Thanks."

His color doesn't go back to normal for a long while after that. Then I get back to work, determined to finish my hook.

I feel his eyes on me but decide to not look up for a little while, then trying to ease into an alliance.

But, when I finally do look up, Chase is gone.

This is getting exhausting.

I see a green screen over at the edible berries station, signaling that whoever took the test over there got a perfect on it. So, that's where I decide to go next. When I look at the testing stations, I can see the boy from District 5.

He definitely looks a lot better than he did on his reaping day. He has real glasses now, which makes it easier to see his silver eyes. His hair only sticks up slightly today (and it works for him). The dirt smudges that were once scattered around on his face and neck are gone, and his injuries are all cared for.

Upon seeing his green screen, he smiles ever-so-slightly and starts the test again. I watch him, interested, as his fingers easily press the correct buttons, and how his eyes light up every time he selects correctly.

He gets another perfect before I take the station next to his and smile at him.

When he sees me, his whole demeanor changes. His body gets stiffer, his eyes get wider, and he focuses even more on the screens in front of him. I start the test and decide to ease slowly into conversation, only looking over periodically.

After a while, I decide to risk it.

"Hi there," I whisper.

He looks up at me, his small body shaking like a small dog. I try to make my voice much gentler the next time I talk to him. "I'm Os. What's your name again-" Suddenly I'm interrupted by him bursting into tears.

"I'm sorry!" he shouts at me, "I dunno what I did, but please, don't hurt me! I promise I won't do it again! I won't even look at you again! Please!"

The entire room goes silent and looks over at me. This sucks.

Now what do I do!? I want to calm him down, but then, what would my alliance do!?

Before I can react, he runs away. Out of the room, toward the bathrooms. Then, I hear Lucy giggling maliciously, and the whole room goes back to whatever conversations they were having before. I decide that I have to wait until after lunch to try and make an ally again.

Later, I walk over to the fire-building station and plop down next to the girl who has smoke flying. I recognize her to be the girl from District 7, with her wavy hair tied up in the same two pigtails that they were during her reaping.

When she notices me sit next to her, she looks up and stops short. All the heat she originally generated cools down immediately.

Her dark eyes narrow upon seeing me.

"What do you want, One?" she asks with a scowl.

"I'm, uh, Os," I introduce.

_Of all times to be awkward… Now!? _

"Yeah, I don't live under a rock. I know exactly who you are, and I know everything about your family, too. Everyone in this room does." She scowls and stares at her would've-been fire. "The name's Marlowe Glaiser, by the way."

I decide that I shouldn't try to mess around this time. I _have _to find someone trust-worthy, and this girl is probably going to be my last shot at making plans in advance. "Look, I, uh, really don't like my alliance," I stammer out awkwardly.

She scowls at me, "Really?" She sounds like she doesn't believe it. I probably wouldn't believe it, either, if I was in her shoes.

"They're… A little t-too blood, uh, too bloodthirsty for my taste…" I smile at her, silently begging her to listen to me.

She hints at a smile with a small scoff. "Yeah? Well, me too."

She turns back to her fire, but I's obvious that she's waiting for me to say something. I watch as her fire starts to smoke again.

"What?" she asks, looking amused. "Did you want to ask me something?"

She gets little embers before I ask, "Do you want to maybe meet up with me? In the Arena?"

She gets a full-out burning fire before she looks over at me. "Listen, Krietzer. I already have an ally, and he already told me about your pitch to him." She looks over at her District partner, and he waves at her. She waves back, then faces me. "His name is Reuben Booker, if you didn't know. I'll convince him to let you join us. But how're you going to get away from the others?"

"Well… I am their leader… but it won't be hard. Those guys are strong, but dumb. I'm weak, but smart!" I smile brightly.

"I wouldn't consider you weak," she says, "You're still lethal with a spear from who-knows-how-many feet away." She squeezes my arm _hard. _

"Ow!" I squeak. Marlowe swallows laughter, "So maybe you're not a macho man after all," she jokes. I laugh at myself, "I told you so. Just proves how intellectually sexy I am!"

She laughs and rolls her eyes, "Careful. Your head might get so big it explodes!"

I laugh. "Then you'd be without a sexy, smart, _wonderful_ ally," I tease. She rolls her eyes and says qflatly, but with a grin, "Oh. Woe is me. How ever will we survive without you?"

I laugh, "You still have Reuben! Besides, you're Marlowe! I'm sure you'll find a way."

I'm in particularly good mood the entire rest of the training day and for private sessions. In the Arena, I can finally get away from the Careers and have a good alliance.

And hey, maybe, if things don't go as we've planned and I don't make it, Dutch can get that Marlowe Glaiser's phone number.


	6. Interviews: Big Shoes

Stephano and Octavian appear on the screen that night to tell us our Training Scores. Dutch looks nervous, but definitely not as nervous as I feel.

The two Capitolites talk about the Games for a while: the excitement of the chariot rides, and everything they could possibly say before actually getting to the point.

"Alright, and with that, I think it's time to reveal the tributes' training scores!" Octavian says happily.

Stephano nods and looks at his papers, "How exciting! Start us off, Octavian!"

"I'd be honored." The older man clears his throat.

"Osmium Krietzer, District 1. Score of… 9."

I grin and let out a happy little squeal. I look over at Dutch and he definitely looks surprised. I doubt he expected me to score above a six or seven. I guess he doesn't know how much I've trained back at District 1.

On those nights when Dad, Dutch, and Nick were all out at an auction, I'd spend my time training in the gym until I puked up dinner and then studying in the library. Dutch probably figured out how often I went to study in the library. He knows better than anyone that I always go to the library to clear my head. But I doubt he knew how often I'd trained with actual weapons.

Pleasure looks even _more _shocked than Dutch at my score. I smile proudly.

"Only because he made 5 cry," Pleasure mutters, scowling. Sure, she can believe that.

"Os, that's a great score!" Dutch finally says, as Pleasure's score of 8 fades away. Pomp gets a 9, Marcella an 8, Lucy a 9, and Sampson an 8. The boy from District 3 gets a 6. The boy from 5, Glitch, gets a 4, which is a score a lot higher than they usually give to those who spend all their time at the berry station. Raleigh from 6 gets a 5, and Lanchester also gets a 9. Wow.

Marlowe comes up next. She gets a score of 7. Reuben comes after her and gets a score of 8.

_Wow, an eight! How'd he manage that!? _

District 8 passes. Chase gets a 5. Ten, eleven, and twelve: Carrie Caldwell gets a 6. Closing remarks are made, but my heart is still soaring. My real alliance and my temporary alliance both scored well, and not to mention I shocked everyone!

Boy, I wish I could've seen Dad and Nick's faces. I'm so happy with the turnout. Not a single soul will even think of calling me weak ever again.

I grin uncontrollably as Dutch shuts off the TV. Pleasure and her mentor go off to bed.

"Night," Dutch says. I smile at him brightly. "Night."

* * *

Dutch sits across from me the next day and smiles. "Well, here we are. _Interviews._"

I smile. "Yeah." Then add, as an afterthought, "You seem cheery, all of a sudden."

"Just enjoying our time together. I know what he means: he's savoring it for however much longer it may last.

"So, are you ready to" he mimics Dad with dramatic hand motions, "_Act?" _

I laugh and he grins at me. Our father turns into a completely different person when cameras are rolling. He's taught all of us: including Nick: how to act. Dutch was never quite as convincing or good as Nick. They often tell me that I'm the best _actor _out of the three of us. That should definitely work in my advantage.

"It's terrifying," Dutch confesses, "When you first get out there. But soon it'll become easy." I nod and he continues, "You're the most famous of the tributes, but you also have some big shoes to fill. But… I have faith in you."

"What do I say?"

"Everything pro-Games and pro-Capitol. The audience already knows your life story, so don't bore them _too_ much. Got it?"

I nod, "Crystal clear."

He smiles at me, "Good."

There's a pause. Then a question pops into my head.

"Dutch, should I come out to them now or do it after the Games?"

He blinks. "Oh, uh…" and thinks about that. "I… I don't know. Just… Surprise me." I sigh but know he's really trying his very best.

"I talked to Nick last night," Dutch says. "He told me to tell you that he's sorry for being so rude to you and that he wishes he could've told you goodbye and see you soon."

I shrug, glad to hear that apology, even though it's through Dutch's voice and not Nick's. "I'm pretty sure that soon I'll be able to understand it all, so no big deal, right?" Next time you talk to him, tell him that I forgive him. Also, mention that there's no need for goodbyes. I'm more of a threat than they all think."

He nods. "I'll transfer the message." A small smile plays across his features.

* * *

I feel good when I get dressed by my prep team. Today, I've been put in a rosy pink suit with a black tie. They press my eyes with eyeliner and then get to working on the rest of my makeup. Later, when they finish putting powder and gunk on my face, they all step back and gush.

I go over to the mirror and stare at my reflection. I look like a completely new person. A lot less dorky than I usually look. My skin is tanner, my lips are redder, my eyes pop out more… I have to say it makes me feel empowered.

We meet up with the mentors. When Pleasure looks over she stares for a while before breaking her glance. "Alright, you know what to do," Dutch whispers, tugging my collar.

"Of course I do."

He smiles and asks, "You nervous?"

I nod. "This was all a lot easy pretending."

"You can do this. You're the second best _actor _that Panem's ever seen, next to Dad!"

I make a quiet, bubbly, giggling noise. He takes my arm and guides me to the back room.

"Good luck. If you get shaky legs, I'll be right there, in the audience." I smile and nod, feeling Pleasure's eyes on me.

I nod and he leaves. Pomp and Marcella show up just then. She's wearing a sherbert-orange gown that sweeps down at her ankles. Pomp skips over and starts chatting at the speed of light about how fun this is going to be. He talks rapidly for five minutes before Marcella cuts him short.

"Sorry, One," she says, "He talks a _lot _when he gets nervous. On his reaping morning he spent twenty minutes telling everyone at the Academy about what he had for breakfast." She giggles and Pomp's already-rosy cheeks get rosier.

Lucy joins us just then, Sampson following.

Everyone looks so different tonight.

Pomp's hair is spiked up again and he's got some seriously dark makeup going on around the eyes. The girls' makeup is extremely exaggerated. Pleasure wears a white, short dress with a red heart on it and rainbow stripes. Her whole face is covered with bright colors. Marcella has gems by her eyes and crimson-red lips. Lucy's green eyes pop in the green dress she wears with black tights. Sampson's shaggy hair is combed cleanly and shiny, and for the first time, I can clearly see his eyes: green as the sea.

"What'd we miss?"

"Pomp rambling," I comment. Lucy glances over and her eyes stay on me for a while. Guess they changed me more than I thought.

"I'm ready for a great interview," she finally says, "And you'd all better be, too. Or _else." _

Pomp lets out a high-pitched, nervous-sounding laugh and just gives a thumbs up, turning pink under all the color on his skin.

The others show up and soon we can hear the muffled theme-music that signifies the start of the televised programming. This is so surreal. To think, soon I'll be that person that's on everyone's TV screens!

"Good luck," Marcella whispers, then we all line up in order. I look down the line of tributes. Lanchester is wearing a scarlet tux and his hair has darker highlights than it did at training. He looks around, looking just about as nervous as he was at training. Raleigh has a poofy, short, pink dress that makes her rosy cheeks look especially rosier (though it may be coloring, as well). Carrie wears a long dress, with a gradient: white at the top going all the way to black at the bottom.

Marlowe is dressed in dark purple dress with lace leggings and lace sleeves. Her hair's pulled up in its usual pigtails. Reuben stands beside her in a nice lilac shirt with a navy blue bowtie. His freckles have completely disappeared, it seems. Like Sampson, his usually-shaggy hair is a lot calmer today. I look over and catch the navy eyes of the girl from 5: her eyeliner wings are beautifully-done. When I see Chase, he's wearing a white tuxedo and his hints at freckles are all gone, as well.

But someone's missing. Glitch, from District 5.

He's pulled in just then. More like, he stumbles in uncoordinatedly with his escort holding his arm. His eyes, usually close to silver, are now a cloudy, dull gray color. He wears a nice shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair looks like it's been smothered in gel three hundred times, and yet there's still three pieces that stick out at the back. He's definitely not himself: he can't even walk straight.

Suddenly we hear Octavian's voice booming, "PLEASURE…EASTON!" She giggles at us and walks out to her interview. I bite my lip and watch the screen.

Pleasure's interview goes well, and I notice that her makeup looks a lot more normal on stage. I hear the crowd from the back room as he raises Pleasure's arm and shouts her name again. Then it suddenly goes quiet.

"Now, it's time for the debut of the one, the only, the youngest Krietzer, OSMIUM!"

Ooh, that's me! I giggle quietly to myself and wave to the others before walking to the stage with a skip in my step.

When I get out to the stage, the roaring of the audience blows out my eardrums. I smile immediately, and I don't even have to fake it. Octavian's laughter literally booms over the speaker surrounding the audience. I decide to let myself look as amazed as I feel as Octavian sits down and I sit next to him.

After a while, the crows quiets down.

"Osmium Krietzer!" he says enthusiastically. "What an honor it is to have you here with us!"

"It's an honor to be here!"

He grins at me. "Aw!" And they have to quiet down the crows again.

"Well, we already have an idea of your younger years, but please, catch us up! I'm sure there's been a ton of excitement after your brother's Victory!"

I nod. "It's been great…Having Dutch as a Victor." I may be bright and smiling, I may have that squeaking sound in my voice that shows excitement, but that was the coldest, whitest lie I've ever told.

Octavian nods, believing it. "Well, I think we can all agree that Dutch was very noble in his Games. What's your approach?"

"Well… I want to be just like Dutch. He's my hero. Both him and dad. I want to play the game fairly and with grace. I want to be brave, and win because I am the best, not because I played dirty."

My _approach _is the second whitest lie I've ever told. There is no such thing as winning the Games fairly. There's no such thing as winning without playing dirty. The Games are unfair and dirty, and all of the tributes know it.

But, the Capitol people look to be feasting on my words.

"Well, what a kid!" Octavian shouts into the microphone and the audience responds with loud cheering.

"So, what about your home life? Any news? Any special little ladies for yourself and your brother?" The crows goes silent and collectively leans forward, waiting eagerly.

I smile. "Nope. We're just stuck with Nick Kensy and Dad." The audience laughs loudly.

"Hear that ladies!? Both young Krietzers are still bachelors!" I hear some high-pitched screaming and decide that now is the time.

I start to chuckle quietly to myself, catching Octavian's attention.

"Osmium!" he makes a mocking-offended face. "You're not telling us something!"

The crows erupts into shouting.

"Tell us!" Octavian hollers.

I chuckle and say into the microphone, "Oh, Octavian…" The crowd goes silent.

"I'm not _just _after girls."

The crowd gasps. Perfect.

"What!?" Octavian asks, shocked and dramatic about it. I chuckle, "Yeah! I'm pansexual!"

There are more gasps from the audience that are soon accompanied by whistles and cheers. I continue, smiling, "I can fall in love with anyone, no matter what gender. And, to be honest, I think that _everyone _is cute."

I hear giggles and more whistles and cheers.

"_Everyone_? Really,_ everyone_!?"

"Yep! Everyone!" I smile, and suddenly the buzzer rings. Octavian laughs into his microphone and announces, "OSMIUM KRIETZER, EVERYONE!" He holds my arm up and the crowd goes wild. Dutch catches my eye and gives me a big thumbs-up, grinning proudly.

Dutch hasn't been proud of me in years. I decide to enjoy it while it lasts.

Marcella interviews well, just about as well as Pleasure, from what I heard. Pomp spends two of his minutes rambling before getting comfortable and then gets the crowd hyped up. After his interview, he comes and stands next to me by the screens to watch, stroking his chin with his fingers. Ratchet from District 3 has a lot calmer of an interview. Lucy speaks very loudly, practically shouting, appearing to make the audience uncomfortable. Sampson nods and shakes his head but doesn't talk. The audience takes a certain liking to that, though. Kara, the girl from 5 with pretty eyes, gives a calm and collective interview. Glitch can barely walk straight when his turn rolls around.

"Well, Glitch, how are you feeling?!" Octavian asks. Glitch looks around with big cloudy eyes, before he finally responds, in a voice an octave lower than I remember: "Drugged."

The audience laughs but the kid looks uncomfortable. Soon he's asking about life back at 5, and I listen, as much as I know I shouldn't.

"Back home? What home? I lived in the poorest part of the District because I was a mistake and my parents were both kicked out. We lived with my uncle for a while, actually, but he went ahead and raped me whenever he felt like it for three years. Finally he starved and my aunt kicked the three of us out. Moved to the Smog when I was 11, the place where you go when you have nowhere else to. Got abused. Pass out every time I have attention to me: either that or puke, like after the reapings." The crowd seems a little disgusted but Glitch is wound up and doesn't notice. "Met a boy who was 16. I…I thought I finally found someone trustworthy. He made me feel worth something. Didn't last long before he broke my trust in _him, _too. Resistance was futile." The crowd responds to his story with disgust, muttering bad things about both of them. _Wow, surprising they'd care. _Glitch doesn't notice this, either. He's too out of it. "The last one was an 18-year-old girl. Never took no for an answer. Wish she would've. Wouldn't believe I'm 13, would you?"

Octavian pauses. "Wait, _you _slept with an 18-year-old girl!?"

The crowd now mutters impressed words.

"Uh, yeah, I guess, but that's not the point-" Octavian laughs and says, "What a fellow! Nice to see it all worked out for you in the end!"

The boy blinks, not comprehending the scene unfolding in front of him.

"No worries, Glitch. Win the Games and all your problems are solved!"

"Won't be that easy."

"We have faith!" The crowd cheers and the buzzer rings. As soon as Glitch stumbles off the stage he makes a dash for a trash can and pukes his guts out. I ignore the noises, as do the others, and turn my attention back to the monitor, frowning.

Raleigh tells stories about her home and Octavian listens intently. The Capitol knows she's cute, but they also know that she stands no chance in the Arena. Lanchester is one of the other crowd favorites. He gets whistles and cheers, and the audience is captured by his story about his mother and uncles. Even I'm captivated by it; Games theory interests me to no end. Marlowe doesn't even pretend to be happy, only wearing small smiles and talking about life in the orphanage. I have a feeling they're going to forget about her. Reuben makes the audience swoon with his charming personality. I barely knew he had it in him. The boy from 8 tells jokes and makes the audience laugh.

Chase wins their hearts with his big puppy dog eyes. He tells his story and makes everyone feel it. Then, to the surprise of the Capitol as well as myself, he comes out of the closet. I stare at the screen, realizing that I'm no longer _special, _but I hope they still remember me. I think it was the best solution for him, though. He'll definitely stick in their minds.

The girl from District 10 is almost as loud as Lucy and sounds almost manly from where I can hear. Octavian has a hard time getting her to be relatable at all, and her buzzer rings before the audience reacts to anything. The District 11 girl, Daisy, makes the audience smile with her happy memories and cute little giggle, but doesn't do anything memorable. Carrie Caldwell goes on a long rant and then works herself up too much to answer many more of Octavian's questions. By the time interviews are over, I'm able to have a brief conversation with Marlowe and Reuben without the other Careers noticing.

Then, the TVs go black and we all separate to go to bed. I was the makeup off my face and shower, then I thankfully climb into bed, wrap up in the covers, and doze off.


End file.
